BRIEF A^ 



JOHN MILTON 



AND irn 



DECLARATION 
OF INDEPENDENCE 



WORCESTER, MASS 
1903 



A BRIEF ACCOUNT 



JOHN MILTON 



DECLARATION 
OF INDEPENDENCE 



V'- 

a 



PRKSS OF 

GILBERT G. DAVIS, 38-44FRONT STREET 

WORCESTER, MASSACHUSETTS 

I 903 



TH£ LiBRAKV OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Copies Recaiveti 

MAY 28 1903 

Ccpyn^ht hntiy 

hvi^ 2. ^'/^ o ^ 



XXc. No. 
COPY B. 



4^ 



t^^¥ 



Copyrtght 1903 by Alfred JVaites. 



1^0 copies printed^ of which this is 
jYo. 



What I have termed Milton's Declaration 
of Independence, was written soon after the 
execution of Charles I., 1649. 

To facilitate comparison, it is printed in 
the following pages opposite portions of The 
Declaration of Independence by Jefferson and 
will probably impress the reader by the simi- 
larity of ideas and the sequence of thought. 

The extracts from Milton's Prose Works 
are taken from the first collective edition, pub- 
lished in three volumes folio, Amsterdam, 
(London), 1698. 

A. W. 




JOHN MILTON 



The grandfather of John Milton was a substantial 
yeoman who lived at Stanton St. John, about five miles 
from Oxford, where his son, the father of the poet, is said 
to have been a chorister and to have conformed to the 
Anglican Church for which he was disinherited by his 
father who adhered to the Roman Catholic faith. 

Banished from his home, the son went to London 
where, by the assistance of a friend, he engaged in busi- 
ness as a scrivener, a profession which included several 
duties now performed by a lawyer. He undertook the 
management of property, invested savings, collected rents 
and was known as a prudent, successful and honorable 
man. He was of liberal education, a fine musician, and 
many of his musical compositions may be found among 
the best collections of that time. He lived over his place 
of business, which bore the sign of The Spread Eagle, the 
family crest, and was situated in Bread street, Cheapside. 
In that house, on the ninth of December, 1608, John Mil- 
ton was born. 

The boy was blessed* in his parents and cherished 
their memory with delightful tenderness. His thoughts of 
his mother were sanctified by her graceful charities ; his 



JOHN MILTON 



father's solicitude for his well-being and education was the 
constant theme of gratitude. He was sent to St. Paul's 
school ; the instruction received there was supplemented 
by a private tutor at home whose careful training was 
always eagerly acknowledged. His desire for learning 
was impetuous ; he studied with such earnestness that from 
his twelfth year he seldom left his books before midnight. 

He was admitted to Christ's College, Cambridge, 
Feb. 12, 1625. His fellow students soon discovered what 
manner of youth he was. The name which they gave 
him, '' The Lady of Christ's, " testified quite as much to 
the purity of his thought and conversation as to his classic 
features and dignified bearing. 

In 1632, Milton proceeded to his M. A. degree and 
left college with a firm resolution to adopt neither the pro- 
fession of the church nor that of the law. 

He now retired for a time to his father's country 
residence in the village of Horton, about 17 miles from 
London, something suspicious of himself as he marks the 
rapid flight of time: — 

" How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of jouth, 

Stol'n on his wing my three and twentieth year ! 

My hasting days fly on with full career, 

But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th, 

Perhaps, my semblance might deceive the truth, 

That I to manhood am arrived so near. 

And inward ripeness doth much less appear. 

That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. 

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow. 

It shall be still in strictest measure even 

To that same lot, however mean or high, 

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven, 

All is, if I have grace to use it so. 

As ever in my great Taskmaster's eye. " 



JOHN MILTON 



Yet, his persevering industry had rewarded him with 
a rare knowledge of Greek, Hebrew, with its two dialects, 
Latin, French, Italian and Spanish, and a wide acquaint- 
ance with the best literature. He knew that in him lay 
the seeds of genius and he nurtured them with ceaseless 
care. His desire was to give the world a work which it 
should not willingly let die ; he tells us how he prepared 
for it : 

" He who would not be frustrate of his hope to 
write well hereafter in laudable things, ought 
himself to be a true poem; that is a composition 
and pattern of the best and honorablest things." * 
Again : 

" Neither do I think it shame to covenant with 
any knowing reader, that for some few years yet I 
may go on trust with him toward the payment of 
what I am now indebted, as being a work not to 
be raised from the heat of youth, or the vapors 
of wine ; like that which flows at waste from the 
pen of some vulgar amorist, or the trencher fury 
of a rhyming parasite ; nor to be obtained by the 
invocation of Dame Memory and her siren 
daughters, but by devout prayer to that eternal 
Spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and 
knowledge, and sends out his Seraphim, with the 
hallow'd fire of his altar, to touch and purify the 
lips of whom he pleases. " t 

The popular idea of Milton is, I think, that of a Puri- 
tan poet; stiff-starched, proud and precise; an austere 



♦An Apology for Smectymnuus. I. 177. 
fThe Reason of Church Government. I. 223. 



JOHN MILTON 



man dwelling in a region of perpetual frown ; selfishly re- 
ligious, detesting laughter, forbidding pleasure ; his fea- 
tures relaxing only^^when he grimly thought of the ultimate 
destination of the vast majority of his fellow creatures. 

The poet was, however, almost the reverse of this. 
Until he had reached middle life he was one of the hap- 
piest of human beings. His father's love and admiration 
of him was boundless. He possessed a moderate share of 
fortune, good health, maintained by temperance and exer- 
cise. He was fond of conversation, excelled in manly 
sports, was an admirable swordsman and a thorough 
musician. He encouraged harmless gaiety, approved of 
dancing, took part in village pastimes and in courtly 
masques ; gave concerts and visited theatres. He was a 
student " beholding the bright countenance of truth in the 
quiet and still air of delightful studies, " "a poet soaring 
in the high region of his fancies with his garland and sing- 
ing robes about him. " 

We should study L' Allegro if we would know 
Milton in his early manhood. That poem illustrates the 
buoyant spirit, the eager nature and beneficent genius to 
which deep sorrow and harsh trial, were, as yet, strangers. 
I have known good people to be a little startled on learn- 
ing that Milton wrote this verse : — 

" Sport, that wrinkled care derides, 
And laughter holding both his sides, 
Come and trip it as jou go, 
On the light fantastic toe." 

To the lovers of the poet, L' Allegro is a source of 
perpetual delight — a well spring of happiness bubbling 
with innocent merriment and unreproved joy. 

8 



JOHN MILTON 



I love to think of him at Horton in those bright sum- 
mer days when he wrote the Masque of Comus. He was 
wont to rise with the birds, to join in their chorus of praise 
as the dawn flung back the curtains of the night and 
spread the sky robes spun from Iris' woof upon the throne 
of day. The early morning air refreshing and invigorat- 
ing all ; the dewdrops pendent from the bladed grass like 
diamonds glittering in the light of the rising sun. There 
he stands upon a verdant slope. He is clad in the pic- 
turesque costume of the time ; beautiful as Apollo, with 
something more than human grace in form and feature. 
His light-brown hair falling in luxuriant locks upon his 
shoulders ; a roseate tint upon his cheeks ; the eyes, as 
yet, undimmed, clear and serene as the heaven above him, 
while sweetest thoughts give welcome to his pure sum- 
mons as he sings : — 

" Mortals, that would follow me, 
Love Virtue, she alone is free. 
She can teach je how to climb 
Higher than the sphery chime ; 
Or, if Virtue feeble were, 
Heav'n itself would stoop to her. " 

In 1638, Milton was provided by his indulgent father 
with the means for travelling upon the continent, and for 
more than 15 months journeyed from place to place, 
most of his time being passed in Italy. He was much 
praised by the learned there for the ease and grace of his 
Latin verse, he tells us with amused pride that he read 
to them the compositions of his college days, but we 
should remember that those were worthy of him and that 
he thought so is apparent from the fact that he had care- 
fully prefixed the dates on which they were originally written. 



JOHN MILTON 



In Italy he visited Galileo, who was then suffering 
imprisonment for thinking on matters of astronomy other 
than the Dominican and Franciscan fathers thought. It 
was dangerous to give free expression to ideas such as 
his in the country of the Inquisition, and though he was 
fearless, many of his friends there were not, and told him 
they were deterred by his free speech, from offering the 
attention which he merited. He did not obtrude his 
opinions upon religious matters, but when he was ques- 
tioned upon them he replied with a consistent and immac- 
ulate independence. 

Milton returned to England in August, 1639. He took 
lodgings for a time in Fleet street, London, and soon after- 
wards rented a house in Aldersgate Street where he kept a 
private school and taught the sons of relatives and friends. 
At this time many good people in England had been 
disturbed by the despotic government of James and 
Charles I. That we may better understand Milton's 
course, it is necessary briefly to digress. 

When the Anglican Church, of which the Pope had 
been the recognized superior, turned from Roman Cath- 
olicism and made the King arbiter in matters theological, 
the interests of the King became identified with those of 
a majority of the English clergy ; their offices, emoluments 
and worldly prosperity became interwoven with his ; thus 
he could rely upon their assistance and an immense acces- 
sion of strength accrued to him. There is no question 
that, in England, the Reformation in its early stages was 
adverse to national prosperity. The clergy, under the 
King, were less tolerant and beneficial than they had been 
under the Pope. 

10 



JOHN MILTON 



Elizabeth, the last of the Tudors, clearly foresaw the 
advent of national will, as expressed through Parliament, 
and in critical moments bowed before it with infinite tact. 

When the fated Stewarts tried to rule England they 
neither knew how to select their advisers nor how to pre- 
serve the affection of the people. The exercise of their 
intellects was limited to their own aggrandizement. Thus, 
James I., on coming to England, enquired : " Do I mak' 
the judges ? Do I mak' the bishops ? " being assured, he 
said: " Then by God's wauns, I mak' what likes me law 
and gospel." 

This inherited determination occasioned the Puritan 
Revolution. It was not possible that the awakening of 
the human mind which followed the invention of printing 
and which was magnificently illustrated during the reign 
of Elizabeth, could content itself with mere literary expres- 
sion. Thought, therefore, ventured to discuss every ques- 
tion affecting the well-being of the human race. If the 
Pope could be deposed rightfully, then archbishops and 
bishops, even kings, could be deposed also. The Brown- 
ists of Elizabeth's time became the Independents of James 
and Charles. These rulers, with the Anglican clergy, en- 
deavored to suppress nonconformity. Many of the noblest 
and the best of English men and women emigrated to 
New England to escape persecution. The ominous nature 
of this proceeding was clearly pointed out by Milton: — 

" O, sir," he said, " if we could but see the shape 
of our dear mother England, as poets are wont 
to give a personal form to what they please, how 
would she appear, think ye, but in a mourning 
weed, with ashes upon her head, and tears abun- 



JOHN MILTON 



dantiy flowing from her eyes, to behold so many 
of her children exposed at once, and thrust from 
things of dearest necessity, because their con- 
science could not assent to things which the 
bishops thought ifidifferent. What more binding 
than conscience ? What more free than indiffe?'- 
eticy ? Cruel then must that indifferency needs 
be, that shall violate the strict necessity of 
conscience; merciless and inhuman that free 
choice and liberty that shall break asunder the 
bonds of religion. Let the Astrologer be dis- 
may'd at the portentous blaze of comets and im- 
pressions in the air, as foretelling troubles and 
changes to states. I shall believe there cannot 
be a more ill-boding sign to a nation than when 
the inhabitants, to avoid insufferable grievances 
at home, are enforced by heaps to forsake their 
native country. " * 

James I. died in 1625. His son, Charles I., succeeded 
to his throne and his policy. In 1639 an attempt was 
made by the King and the church to coerce the Scots, to 
compel them to accept episcopacy. Milton, returning from 
his travels, found "all mouths open against the bishops" 
and entered into the dispute. His appeal was like a 
bugle-call summoning the faithful, the rank and file of dis- 
senting English and Scotch to combat unitedly for their 
rights and to crush the insolence of despotism which 
" would make a national war out of a surplice brabble. " 
"Go on, both hand in hand, O nations, never 
to be disunited ; be the praise and the heroic 

*Of Reformation. I. 266-267. 



JOHN MILTON 



song of all posterity ; merit this, but seek only 
virtue, not to extend your limits ; for what needs ? 
to win a fading triumphant laurel out of the 
tears of wretched men, but to settle the pure 
worship of God in his church, and justice in 
the state; then shall the hardest difficulties 
smooth out themselves before ye ; envy shall 
sink to hell, craft and malice be confounded, 
whether it be home-bred mischief or outlandish 
cunning ; yea other nations will then covet to 
serve ye, for Lordship and Victory are but the 
pages of Justice and Virtue. Commit securely 
to true Wisdom the vanquishing and uncasing of 
craft and sublety, which are but her two run- 
nagates ; join your invincible might to do v/orthy 
and God-like deeds ; and then he that seeks 
to break your union, a cleaving curse be his 
inheritance to all generations. " * 

So far as I have noticed, most of the editors of Mil- 
ton refer to his prose works as ephemeral productions ex- 
erting little influence upon his own time and none upon 
ours; moreover, these editors generally regret that the 
poet allowed his genius to be misled by a will-o'-the-wisp 
into the quagmire of polemics. 

I cannot quite understand this because it seems to be 
controverted by the living facts which prove that few men 
have exerted so potent an ascendency over the minds of 
their fellows. If the measure of influence be the degree 
of success, Milton's prose w^orks were greatly influential in 
England for at least, a third of a century ; true, that in- 

*Of Reformation. I. 271. 

13 



JOHN MILTON 



fluence waned with the restoration of the Stewarts but then 
piety, justice and common-sense waned, too. Milton's 
thoughts were preserved and treasured by the Puritans 
and Independents, particularly by those who left the Old 
/ England for the New. They brought the seeds of his 

doctrines with them; here they struck deep root and 
flourished, ultimately to blossom in the Declaration of 
Independence. 

In controversy, Milton displayed no hesitation, doubt 
or misgiving. He was no stranger to himself. He knew 
the fullness of his strength and reposed therein with per- 
fect confidence. His opinions developed consistently. 
His ideas of theology and politics were not liable to the 
distortion which follows upon their illumination by a flash 
of enthusiasm but were gradually evolved by serious med 
itation in the sober light of day. Constancy, justice and 
fortitude were partners of his soul. No threat could daunt 
him and no bribe could win. He adored truth and liberty, 
and never, knowingly, defamed the objects of his adora- 
tion. Sincerity is evident on every page, clear, pure as 
the sunlight dispersing evil and ignorance. He abhorred 
avarice and ambition nobly exemplifying his hatred. He 
scorned pecuniary benefit and freely devoted his great 
powers to the public service : — 

"Do they think then," he said, " that all these 
meaner and superfluous things come from God, 
and the divine gift of learning from the den of 
Plutus, or the cave of Mammon ? Certainly never 
any clear spirit nurst up from brighter influ- 
ences, with a soul enlarged to the dimensions of 
spacious art and high knowledge, ever entered 



JOHN MILTON 



there but with scorn and thought it ever foul dis- 
dain to make pelf or ambition the reward of 
his studies, it being the greatest honor, the great- 
est fruit and proficiency of learned studies to 
despise these things. Not liberal science, but 
illiberal must that needs be that mounts in con- 
templation merely for money. "* 

There was no mistaking his purpose. He indulged 
in no wily fence play to deceive his enemy but with fierce 
energy thrust right at the heart of inhumanity, oppression 
and untruth. 

He despised ignoble authority. He could not bear 
to see a good and wise man in a dungeon and a fool upon a 
throne. He claimed for every man the right to be free 
from political and spiritual tyranny. Today, he would be 
termed a Radical in politics and an Unitarian in religion. 
He possessed invincible courage, an indomitable will; a 
resolute common-sense which never faltered before a 
proposition of human or spiritual welfare. Panoplied by 
virtue he never shamed her armor. He fought standing 
on the broad principle of human rights. He was indig- 
nant at the audacity of the claim that one man's prejudices 
should over-ride the reason of all the rest. From youth 
to age, in prosperity and in adversity, in sickness and in 
health, grandly consistent always. He says : — 

" It were a nation miserable indeed, not worth 
the name of a nation, but a race of idiots, whose 
happiness and welfare depended upon one man. 
The happiness of a nation consists in true re- 
ligion, piety, justice, prudence, temperance, for- 



*Aniniadversions, &c. I. i6i. 

15 



JOHN MILTON 



titude and the contempt of avarice and ambition. 
They in whomsoever these virtues dwell emi- 
nently, need not kings to make them happy, but 
are the architects of their own happiness ; and 
whether to themselves or others are not less than 
kings."* 

Charles I. abhorred the thought of popular govern- 
ment. The people, he said, had no right beyond that of 
having their life and property secure. How these were 
to be guaranteed he did not say but Milton perceived very 
clearly that if the people had no share in the government 
they had no security for either life or property. 

The causes of the Puritan Revolution were like those 
which actuated' our own Revolution. It should surprise 
no one to learn that the conclusions which justified the one 
were asserted to sustain the other. There is scarcely a 
fact affirmed by Milton against the despotism of Charles I. 
which was not reaffirmed by Jefferson against the tyranny 
of George III. 

That Jefferson had Milton's Prose Works, particularly 
" The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates," and " A Defense 
of the English People," before him when he wrote the 
Declaration of Independence is uncertain. Bancroft says 
positively that Jefferson drew it '• from the fulness of his 
own mind without consulting one single book,"$ yet the 
likeness to Milton's Declaration of Independence is re- 
markable and a comparison admirably illustrates the poli- 
tical genius of the great poet. 



*Kikonoclastes. II. 507. 

fA Defence of The People of E^ngland. II. 5S1, 5S2. 

jBancroft. History United States. VIII. 465. Sixth Edition, 1868. 

16 



JOHN MILTON 



Milton — 

"No man who knows ought, 
can be so stupid to deny that 
all men naturally were born 
free, being the image and 
resemblance of God him- 
selfe, and were by privilege 
above all the creatures, borne 
to command and not to obey: 
and that they lived so, till 
from the root of Adams trans- 
gression, falling among them- 
selves to doe wrong and vio- 
lence, and foreseeing that 
such courses must needs tend 
to the destruction of them all, 
they agreed by common lea- 
gue to bind each other from 
mutual injury, and joyntly to 
defend themselves against 
any that gave disturbance or 
opposition to such agreement. 
Hence came Cities, Towns 
and Common-wealths. And 
because no faith in all was 
found sufficiently binding, 
they saw it needful to ordaine 
some Autoritie, that might 
restraine by force and punish- 
ment what was violated 
against peace and common 



Jefferson — 

"We hold these truths 
to be self-evident, that 
all men are created 
equal ; that they are en- 
dowed by their Creator 
with certain unalienable 
rights; that among 
these, are life, liberty, 
and the pursuit of hap- 
piness. 



That, to secure these 
rights, governments are 



17 



JOHN MILTON 



Milton — 

right : This autoritie and 
power of self-defence and 
preservation being originally 
and naturally in every one of 
them, and unitedly in them 
all, for ease, for order ; and 
least each man should be his 
owne partial judge, they com- 
municated and deriv'd either 
to one, whom for the emi- 
nence of his wisdom and in- 
tegritie they chose above the 
rest, or to more then one 
whom they thought of equal 
deserving: the first was 
called a King; the other 
Magistrates. Not to be their 
Lords and Maisters (though 
afterward those names in som 
places were giv'n voluntarily 
to such as had bin authors of 
inestimable good to the 
people) but to be thir Dep- 
uties and Commissioners, to 
execute, by vertue of thir in- 
trusted power, that justice 
which else every man by the 
bond of Nature and of Cov'- 
nant must have executed for 



Jefferson — 

instituted among men, 
deriving their just pow- 
ers from the consent of 
the governed ; 



i8 



JOHN MILTON 



Milton — 

himselfe, and for one an- 
other." 

* * ^ * * ^)^ =* 

"It follows lastly, that 
since the King or Magistrate 
holds his autoritie of the 
people, both originally and 
naturally for their good in 
the first place, and not his 
owne, then may the people as 
oft as they shall judge it for 
the best, either choose him 
or reject him, retaine him or 
depose him though no Tyrant, 
meerly by the libertie and 
right of free born men to be 
govern'd as seems to them 
best." * 

" Certainly, if no people in 
their right wits ever com- 
mitted the Government either 
to a King, or other Magis- 
trates, for any other purpose 
than for the common good of 
them all, there can be no 
reason why, to prevent the 
utter ruin of them all, they 



Jefferson — 

that, whenever any form 
of government becomes 
destructive of these 
ends, it is the right of 
the people to alter or 
to abolish it, and to in- 
stitute a new govern- 
ment, laying its founda- 
tion on such principles, 
and organizing its pow- 
ers in such form, as to 
them shall seem most 
likely to effect their 
safety and happiness. 



*The Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. Vol. II. pp. 531, 532, 533. 



19. 



JOHN MILTON 



Milton — 

may not as well take it back 
again from a King, as from 
other Governors ; ^ =»^ =* * 
And to invest any mortal 
creature with a power over 
themselves, on any other 
terms than upon trust, were 
extreme madness ; nor is it 
credible that any people since 
the Creation of the World, 
who had freedom of will, were 
ever so miserably silly, as 
either to part with the power 
for ever, and to all purposes, 
or to revoke it from those 
whom they had entrusted 
with it, but upon most urgent 
and weighty reasons. * * * ^ 
Whence it follows * * * That 
Goverfiors are not lightly to be 
changed^ is true with respect 
to the Peoples Prudence, not 
the King's Right." 

" Nature teaches men to 
give way sometimes to the 
violence and outrages of 
Tyrants, the necessity of 
affairs sometimes enforces a 
Toleration with their enor- 
mities ; what foundation can 



Jefferson- 



Prudence, indeed, 
will dictate that gov- 
ernments long estab- 
lished, should not be 
changed for light and 
transient causes ; and, 
accordingly, all ex- 
perience hath shown,, 
that mankind are more 
disposed to suffer, while 



JOHN MILTON 



Milton — 

you find in this forced pa- 
tience of a Nation, in this 
compulsory submission, to 
build a Right upon, for Princes 
to tyrannize by the Law of 
Nature ?***=*=** 
Nature teaches us, of two 
evils to choose the least ; 
and to bear with oppression, 
as long as there is a necessity 
of so doing." * 

"A Tyrant whether by 
wrong or by right comming 
to the Crowne, is he who re- 
garding neither Law nor the 
common good, reigns onely 
for himself and his Faction : 
# # # # # Against 
whom what the people lawfully 
may doe, as against a 
common pest, and destroyer 
of mankinde, I suppose no 
man of cleare judgement 
need goe furder to be guided 
then by the very principles 
of nature in him." t 



Jefferson — 

evils are suffer able 
than to right them 
selves by abolishing the 
forms to which they are 
accustomed. But, when 
a long train of abuses 
and usurpations, pur- 
suing invariably the 
same object, evinces a 
design to reduce them 
under absolute despot- 
ism, it is their right, it 
is their duty, to throw 
off such government, 
and to provide new 
guards for their future 



security. 

* # # 

* # # 



*A Defence of The People of England. Vol. II. pp. 623-610. 
fTenure of Kings and Magistrates. Vol. II. p. 535. 



JOHN MILTON 



Milton — 

" Thus farr hath bin con- 
sidered briefly the power of 
Kings and Magistrates ; how- 
it was, and is originally the 
peoples, and by them con- 
ferred in trust onely to bee 
imployed to the common 
peace and benefit; with lib- 
ertie therefore and right re- 
maining in them to reassume 
it to themselves, if by Kings 
or Magistrates it be abus'd; 
or to dispose of it by any 
alteration, as they shall judge 
most conducing to the public 
good." * 

" Who knows not that there 
is a mutual bond of amity 
and brotherhood between 
man and man over all the 
World, neither is it the Eng- 
lish Sea that can sever us 
from that duty and relation : 
a straiter bond yet there is 
between fellow - subjects 
neighbours and friends ; But 
when any of these do one to 
another so as hostility could 



Jefferson — 

Nor have we been 
wanting in attention to 
our British brethren. 
We have warned them, 
from time to time, of at- 
tempts made by their 
legislature to extend an 
unwarrantable jurisdic- 
tion over us. We have 
reminded them of the 
circumstances of our 
emigration and settle- 
ment here. We have 
appealed to their native 
justice and magnani- 
mity, and we have con- 
jured them, by the ties 
of our common kindred, 
to disavow these usurp- 
ations, which would in- 
evitably interrupt our 
connections and corre- 
spondence. They, too, 
have been deaf to the 
voice of justice and 
consanguinity. We 
must, therefore, ac- 
quiesce in the necessity, 



*Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. II. 535. 
22 



JOHN MILTON 



Milton — 

do no worse, what doth the 
Law decree less against 
them, then open enemies and 
invaders ? =^ * ■* * * 
Nor is it distance of place 
that makes enmitie, but en- 
mity that makes distance. 
He therefore that keeps 
peace with me neer or re- 
mote, of whatsoever Nation, 
is to me as far as all civil and 
human Offices an English- 
man and a Neighbour, but if 
an Englishman forgetting alj 
Laws, human, civil and re- 
ligious, offend against life and 
libertie, to him offended and 
to the Law in his behalf, 
.though born in the same 
Womb, he is no better then a 
Turk, a Sarasin, a Heathen."* 



Jefferson — 

which denounces our 
separation, and hold 
them, as we hold the 
rest of mankind, en- 
emies in war, in peace, 
friends." 



*Tenure of Kings and Magistrates. Vol. II. p. 536. 



23 



JOHN MILTON 



The conflict between the King and the parUament 
was ended. Cromwell endeavored to save the King but 
proofs of the royal duplicity were made evident again and 
again. At length, disgusted with the Stewart's per- 
fidy, he left the baffled monarch to his fate. The death 
warrant of Charles I. was as Horace Walpole called it, the 
Major Charta of English liberty. 

The trial and execution of the King aroused the 
anger of Salmasius, at that time the greatest scholar in 
Europe with the single exception of Grotius. In a diatribe 
of exceeding bitterness, he exclaimed against the English 
people. Milton replied: his Defence of the English 
people made him known throughout the Continent. He 
was hailed as the Vindicator of Liberty. All Europe rang 
with his fame. 

The attack of Salmasius was furious but it lacked 
argument which could commend it to other than those who 
flourished on despotism. It was a plea for tyranny and 
the perpetuation of injustice. It ignored the rights and 
the desires of the individual subject, considering him as a 
creature born to be taxed ; existing politically, merely as a 
necessary and divinely appointed contributor to kingly 
power ; having no inherent right to any share in govern- 
ment, nor with liberty to protest against its measures so 
long as his life and property were not endangered. This 
was, indeed, the argument of Charles I. himself. A brief 
extract from Milton's First Defence will prove with what 
supreme ability he answered it. 

In his Preface to A Defence of the People of England - 
he says : — 



24 



JOHN MILTON 



" Nature and Laws would be in an ill case, if Slav- 
ery should find what to say for itself, and Liberty 
be mute : and if Tyrants should find men to 
plead for them, and they that can master and 
vanquish Tyrants, should not be able to find ad- 
vocates. And it were a deplorable thing indeed, 
if the reason mankind is endu'd withal, and 
which is the gift of God, should not furnish more 
arguments for men's preservation, for their de- 
liverance, and, as much as the nature of the 
thing will bear, for making them equal to one 
another, than for their oppression, and for their 
utter ruin under the domineering power of one 
single person. Let me therefore enter upon this 
noble cause with a cheerfulness grounded upon 
this assurance, that my adversary's cause is 
maintained by nothing but Fraud, Fallacy, 
Ignorance and Barbarity; whereas mine has 
Light, Truth, Reason, the Practice and the 
Learning of the best ages of the world upon its 
side."* 

Vituperation is undoubtedly a blemish in controversy ; 
we may well regret that Milton here made such free use 
of it ; but the weakness brings the poet a little closer to 
us. He convicted his antagonist of misrepresentation, 
deceit and untruth. No vituperation could make those 
facts other than hideous. It was unnecessary to call Sal- 
masius a liar after having proved him one. It was a work 
of supererogation to term him "a tormentor of semi- 



*A Defence of the People of England. II. 559. 

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JOHN MILTON 



colons." The castigation administered by Milton was 
frightful. Salmasius never recovered from it. 

The warning was sufficient to hinder wise men from 
renewing the controversy, but an unwise man ventured to 
attack Milton in a volume entitled, "The Blood of the 
King Clamoring to Heaven." This work was attributed 
to Alexander Morus, who, indeed, had supervised the 
proof and publication and wrote the preface in which Mil- 
ton was further reviled. This called forth : " The Second 
Defence of John Milton, Englishman, for the People of 
England." Salmasius had been ignominiously whipped 
and now Morus was flayed alive. The poor wretch 
begged for pity, screamed with terror and disowned the 
authorship. Milton was relentless and buried his victim 
under an accumulation of vituperative Latin. 

Cromwell was now Protector and Milton Latin Sec- 
retary to the Council of State. We know not if either ever 
spoke to the other, but we know that the poet, with the 
rare independence which was his, dared to differ from the 
Protector's policy more than once. It would be very in- 
teresting to learn what Cromwell thought of the Secretary ; 
we know what the Secretary thought of Cromwell. 

"We were left," he says, addressing Oliver, "we 
were left to ourselves : the whole national in- 
terest fell into your hands, and subsists only in 
your abilities. To your virtue, overpowering 
and resistless, every man gives way, except some 
who, without equal qualifications, aspire to equal 
honors, who envy the distinctions of merit greater 
than their own, or who have yet to learn that in 
the coalition of human society, nothing is more 

26 



JOHN MILTON 



pleasing to God, or more agreeable to reason, 
than that the highest mind should have the sov- 
ereign power. Such, Sir, are you by general 
confession ; such are the things achieved by you, 
the greatest and most glorious of our country- 
men, the director of our public councils, the 
leader of unconquered armies, the father of your 
country ; for by such title does every good man 
hail you with sincere and voluntary praise." * 

Oliver's son, Richard, succeeded him as Protector, 
but the master-mind was gone and public affairs drifted 
to confusion. Milton vainly endeavored to recall the 
achievements of the Commonwealth and most truly 
prophesied the consequences of the restoration of the 
Stewarts. In a little less than two years after Oliver's 
death Charles II. came back in triumph. 

Now, England, Milton's dear mother England, fell 
from the zenith of her glory and sank to the lowest depths 
of degradation ; but the great poet was 

" unchang'd, 
* * * Though faH'n on evil days, 
On evil days thougli fall'n and evil tongues, 
In darkness, and with dangers compass'd round 
And solitude — "t 

To that " solitude " we are indebted for the '' Paradise 
Lost." 

I should call attention to the fact, which seems 
to have escaped the general notice of book-buyers, that 
some editions of " Paradise Lost " do not contain a 



♦Johnson I,ives. I. io6. 
tParadise L,ost. VII. 24. 



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JOHN MILTON 



vigorous line in the twelfth book. The editions referred 
to commencing with the 64th line and ending with the 
70th line read as follows: 

" O execrable son ! so to aspire 
Above his brethren, to himself assuming 
Authority usurp'd, from God not giv'n, 
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl, 
Dominion absolute ; that right Ave hold 
Bj his donation ; such title to Himself 
Reserving, human left from human free." 

How characteristic of Milton the line omitted is : — 

" O execrable son ! so to aspire 
Above his brethren, to himself assuming 
Authority usurp'd, from God not giv'n. 
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl. 
Dominion absolute ; that right we hold 
By his donation ; hut man over meti 
He made not lord, such title to Himself 
Reserving, human left from human free." 

Paradise Lost was written " to justify the ways of 
God to men," to show that, eventually, iniquity shall be 
defeated, its utmost malice thwarted, its curse become a 
blessing and its evil turned to good. The arch-fiend 
suspects the godlike purpose. 

" * * * If then his providence 
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good. 
Our labor must be to pervert that end 
And out of good still to find means of evil." 

" * * * but that the will 
And high permission of all-ruling heaven 
Left him at large to his own dark designs ; 
That with reiterated crimes he might 
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought 
Evil to others, and enraged might see 
28 



JOHN MILTON 



How all his malice served but to bring forth 
Infinite goodness, grace and mercy shown 
On man by him seduced." 

When the archangel Michael reveals the future to 
Adam before expelling him from Eden, " our sire 

" Replete with joy and wonder thus replied : 
O goodness infinite, goodness immense ! 
That all this good of evil shall produce, 
And evil turn to good ; more wonderful 
Than that which by creation first brought forth 
Light out of darkness ! " 

The invocation is a prayer, sublimely beautiful where 
conscious power is joined with deep humility and hearted 
love with glowing faith. 

What forceful reasoning that is of the evil spirits 
in which the noblest attributes of the human mind are 
debased by exaltation while our sympathy accompanies 
the wagging of those rebeUious tongues ! It is said that 
Professor Porson narrated an instance of this. Once 
riding in a stage coach from Banbury to Oxford with one 
companion, a commercial gentleman, the Professor intro- 
duced the subject of Milton and recited portions of 
*' Paradise Lost," concluding with : 

" * * * What though the field be lost? 
All is not lost ; th' unconquerable will, 
And study of revenge, immortal hate 
And courage never to submit or yield, 
And what is else not to be overcome ; 
That glory never shall his wrath or might 
Extort from me : to bow and sue for grace 
With suppliant knee, and deify his power, 
Who from the terror of this arm so late 
Doubted his empire." 

29 



JOHN MILTON 



" Dear me ! " exclaimed the commercial gentle- 
man, " Dear me ! I hope he'll win." 

In the great epic, Milton loved to introduce the 
names of men and places with which his learning had 
made him familiar, he does this with exquisite skill; 
each is a name renowned in history or romance, in fable 
or in song ; names which cling to the memory as the per" 
fume to the rose. 

The great poet sometimes revelled in terrific imagery. 
The mind is almost tortured to realize its awful signifi- 
cance. Thus, when the prince of darkness, exulting, 
tells his compeers of his victory over our first parents 
and his triumph over the Omnipotent, expecting applause, 
he is horrified by the hisses encompassing him and in 
terror beholds the bodies, made in God's likeness, shrink 
away from himself and from the fallen angels and their 
subtlety become enwrapped with the serpent's slimy form. 

Is there anything in literature finer than his lines upon 
Hypocrisy ? 

" For neither man nor angel can discern 

Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks 

Invisible, except to God alone, 

By his permissive will, through heav'n and earth : 

And oft, though w^isdom w^ake, suspicion sleeps 

At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity 

Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill 

Where no ill seems." 

How beautiful the description of evening and of 
night : — 

30 



JO-HN MILTON 



" Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
Had in her sober liverj all things clad ; 
Silence accompanied, for beast and bird, 
Thej to their grassy couch, these to their nests, 
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; 
She all night long her amorous descant sung ; 
Silence was pleas'd ; now glow'd the firmament 
With living sapphires ; Hesperus that led 
The starry host, rode brightest, till the moon. 
Rising in clouded majesty, at length 
Apparent queen unveiled her peerless light. 
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. " 

" Was there ever anything so delightful as the 
music of ' Paradise Lost " ' ? wrote the poet 
Cowper to Unwin. 

Melody was a part of Milton's great inheritance. 
With him earthly joy became a gladsome song and 
heavenly praise a quiring symphony. His mind was at- 
tuned to lyric rapture ; its least expression was in perfect 
concord, like that of the noble^instrument upon which he 
loved to interpret his highest thought. As you listen to 
that music the air is tremulous with the majestic diapason, 
quivers with sympathy, while the soul beats its wings 
against its mortal cage as if striving to join the glorious 
harmonies soaring heavenwards. 

" Thou hast said much of ' Paradise Lost,' " said 
the Quaker Elwood to Milton. "What hast 
thou to say of Paradise Found ?" Upon that hint 
the poet wrote * Paradise Regained ' ; that, with 
Samson Agonistes, was his last work. 

And now Milton was an old, blind man. He had 
nearly reached the alloted span of human life, the three- 
Si 



JOHN MILTON 



score years and ten. The cause for which he had fought 
was vanquished and lay prostrate in the dust. The time 
was out of joint. Renegades flourished, apostacy was 
honored as a virtue. Genius was obscured by the imps 
of darkness ; the greatest man in all the world was left to 
die almost destitute, friendless and alone. Yet high 
thoughts had ever been his best companions and the dear 
knowledge that his integrity was untarnished, that he had 
been true to God and to his fellow men yielded comfort 
inexpressible. Well might he have addressed those about 
him in the words which he placed between the lips of 
Samson: 

"Happen what may, of me expect to hear 
Nothing dishonorable, impure, unworthy 
Our God, our law, my nation or myself." 

He died as he had lived. No accusation against 
Fate, no querulous complaining, no despondent word. 
Unsullied conscience. Virtue's champion ; pure-eyed Faith, 
white-handed Hope, like ministering angels, ushered that 
faithful soul into the bliss of never ending peace. 

"Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt. 
Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair, 
And what may quiet us in a death so noble." 



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